Smugglers and Dungeons!

The crowd was silent. It always was. One might even get killed for sneezing.

The man on the podium was no thief. He was no killer. He was a proud man who did not wish for the single thing he could do to be taken away from him.

Even if the Emperor had decided that his paintings were treacherous.

Basila let out a gasp. She knew this man!

 He had asked for more than one rune from her during her time as a beggar. Because there was nothing quite like a rune on the brush to make the painting come to life.

"We have to save him!" Basila sprang to her feet, only to be pulled back.

 Master Tang shook his head.

"This," he didn't point at the man, from their place in an abandoned sewer entrance, which was behind so much trash no one took notice of them. "Is a symptom."

Basila began to trash in his hold. Her knife was in her hands. She couldn't just stay back and watch!

Her kicking threw a wooden crate to the side.

A man in the crowd who was forced to stand witness to this crime looked their way.

His eyes were red and puffy.

Basila stopped her trashing, as the man shook his head.

"You can pray, girl," Master Tang said, as he placed her near Icarus. Icarus, who already had his eyes closed and was murmuring a prayer.

Basila couldn't stand him! She couldn't have such a weakling as a Champion!

Her hand was in the air before the memories of the last time she had attempted to do this came to her.

Icarus grabbed her hand gently, lowering it.

"You aren't mad at me," the boy whispered, as a father of five children knelt to greet the Grim Reaper. "But you are angry. Can't you see what Master Tang wants from us?"

"We have to do something," Basila chocked out, as she hugged Icarus.

They were both smelly, and wet, and cold to their bones.

But she needed someone to hold.

"We can listen to Master Tang. He knows what is best," Icarus said, for he had grown up hearing the legends of wise Guild Masters who saved the world in the end.

People who, if they were not the heroes, were the ones who guided the heroes.

"Now, children," Hua Tang said, as he clasped his hands together. Not even he could do anything.

There were twenty guards in obvious spots around the execution area. There was no telling how many there were hidden in the crowd.

And once Master Tang attacked an enemy who was more than willing to use civilians as meat shields, he knew that it was going to be a massacre.

This painter, the Guild Master knew, would not want his life bought with such a bloody coin.

"A minute of silence," Master Tang whispered.

As the man's head rolled and the Crier began to list his many crimes, Master Tang saw who was a guard and who was not.

But what was the point of killing them now and making more children go to bed hungry?

"Let us go," Master Tang knew that these two were not ready for such a lesson. Children under fifteen were not forced to attend an execution.

Both of them looked young. Maybe the guards had simply assumed they had not reached the age when they must be forced to endure the injustice of the world.

Or maybe two rascals who wore rags and ate kitchen scraps were simply not interesting enough for the Emperor, who was rumored to watch all executions occurring in his lands.

But whatever it was, Master Tang knew that the boy had spirit and knew in which direction the world moved.

The girl had more temper than good sense, but she knew her runes. He had heard about her. The only thing she lacked was mana crystal.

Something the dungeons had a lot of.

But for now, he had to make sure that the children survived.

Because his lack of patience had… landed them in sewage…

0000

"Here, you have to drink this," there were many things which Icarus knew about. A deworming potion, with its brown color and the smell of something that had come out of the sewer they were back in, was one of them.

Still, as he thought to protest, his stomach rolled.

He was forcing the foul-smelling concoction down his throat, hoping that he was not going to die screaming in the next couple of days.

"And you as well," Hua Tang handed the other bottle to Basila, who was still taking her bath.

The water had long since gone cold, but the girl refused to get out of it. The curtains through which only Hua Tang's hand went were covering her.

Covering her many scars from Icarus' eyes.

But not from hers.

"What's the point?" She finally asked, as her fingers twitched to take a hold of the bottle. It was going to ensure her survival, and yet…

"Do you want a sandal to the head?" Master Tang asked. He had both girls and boys in his guild, once. He was no stranger to meting out corporal punishment to either sex.

"No!" Basila yelled, remembering what had happened last time. For all that they were into something like a cavern, she could hear the bubbling waste near her.

"And why is that?" Hua Tang asked. It was easy to tell someone what you wanted them to believe. But most people rarely listened.

Hua Tang wanted for Basila to find her spirit. To be as practical as Icarus.

The Path of the Smuggler demanded nothing less.

"Because… I… I might die if I end up in the waste again!" Basila yelled.

"Then take the potion," Master Tang's smile was clear to be heard in his voice. "Because if you don't, the worms are going to eat your stomach."

Basila quickly took the bottle with the potion. Noted that it had been a beer bottle, once.

Then she drank it all.

Because she did not want to die. And that painter deserved justice…